


Lay Him Down to Sleep

by unholygrass



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Burns, Concerned Friends, Family Issues, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Lightningbending & Lightningbenders (Avatar), Unconscious Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28960161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unholygrass/pseuds/unholygrass
Summary: Katara saves Aang's life from Azula's attack, but it still takes weeks for him to wake up. Here is the in between.
Relationships: Aang & Katara & Sokka & Toph, Aang/Katara (Avatar)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	Lay Him Down to Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a drabble. it's not finished, and I won't ever probably finish it, but its readable and I figured someone would want it even though it doesn't really have a conclusion or anything. Don't go into it expecting a full story lol because I've only rescued this from my drafts and spit it at you.

She’s flying up and up— out of the catacombs and into the night sky. She hears the very welcome sound of Appa nearby. She uses her free hand to bend them a fluffy pile of snow— not the most sophisticated landing pad, but it saves her ankles and most importantly, the impact doesn’t jar Aang. 

Aang, who is terrifyingly still and lifeless against her— she gets up to her knees and quickly melts the snow with a flick of her wrist. She wraps both arms around him, pulls him against her chest so she can see the gaping hole in his back. It’s bad— 

She can’t feel his breath on her neck. She quickly pulls him away, puts her hand under his nose— 

She waits. 

A moment becomes two. 

Appa roars overhead. 

“No— no, no, no,” She moans, throat tightening painfully as her vision burrs. His chest never rises. 

“Aang!” She shouts in his face, still disbelieving. 

The ground rumbles beneath them, and it takes her only half a second to realize— the Dai Li are still coming for them. They have to go— 

“Katara!” Sokka shouts her name, he’s landed Appa only a short jog away. She gets to her feet, pulls one of Aang’s arms over her shoulder again and uses her free hand to grab onto his belt. She brings him with her, and with a burst of help from the water still sitting around, she propels them both onto Appa’s head. 

Sokka has the good sense to move where he wouldn’t be squashed and climbs into the saddle. Both he and Toph reach forward and grab her shoulders and Aang’s to steady them as Appa takes off without prompting. Within seconds they’re already high in the sky, out of reach of the Dai Li and under the bright glow of Yue’s watchful eye. 

“What happened? Where’s Aang?” Toph asks, letting go of Katara. Sokka looks at her funny, but Katara just sucks in a deep breath. 

She unwraps Aang’s arm from her shoulder and holds him close. After a second she forces herself to bend down and place her ear against his chest. 

...

Silence. 

“Katara?” Sokka says again, but this time his voice cracks, and she knows that he has figured out what is going on. He’s realized his friend is dead. 

She can’t panic— not yet. 

Not yet. 

She gently rests him back against Appa and pulls the spirit oasis water from around her neck. 

Thank gods she’d saved it. If she’d used it on Zuko down there—

Despite its lack of size, Katara can feel the hidden power contained within the water in her hand. It begins to spin practically on its own, like she is not its bender but merely its guide. It immediately begins to glow, and she pulls Aang back towards her for access to the massive hole in his back. 

She applies the water directly, and it disappears immediately. 

And nothing happens. 

He doesn’t breathe, or move. He’s limp against her hands, and growing cold. 

It hadn’t worked. It didn’t work. He’s dead. 

Aang is dead. 

A sob tears it’s way out of her throat, and she clutches him to her chest, burying her face in his robes. He smells like burnt flesh and blood. 

The pain in her chest feels like her heart has been shoved through a shredder, and her throat tightens in agony. She can’t breathe—

Aang’s tattoos flash a brilliant white, blinding her for a second—

and he groans— shifts beneath her, and sucks in air. 

She gasps, pulls him away so she can see his face. He’s barely conscious— staring ahead hazily with eyes half lidded and glazed over. 

But when he sees her, he smiles. 

He smiles.

The overwhelming relief that washes over her makes her feel faint— the head rush blocks out all sounds other than his breathing, and she clutches him against her once again, absolutely relishing in the way his chest moves against hers. 

He’s alive. 

He’s alive. 

“Katara?” Toph asks, her voice still fearful. Katara is reminded that her friend can’t feel what’s going on. 

“He’s alive.” She says over his shoulder. She’s not ready to let go just yet. “He’s alive.” 

The wind makes the tears on her face sting with cold, and she takes a moment to close her eyes and feel how Aang’s heart thumps in his chest, how he moves minutely beneath her. 

He’s alive. 

—

They fly to their dad’s base— it’s a good hour away, and the night air is nippy and smells of sea salt. Aang’s skin is clammy and freezing, and she considers digging out a blanket for him— but she knows Aang’s lack of heat isn’t from the cold air, or Appa’s warmth would have already solved that problem for her. 

No, his chi is weak and blocked— tangled tightly together at the new hole in his back. It doesn’t bleed much— the lightening had cauterized it almost instantly— but just in the brief moment she’d applied the spirit water she’d felt just how ruined Aang’s chi paths are. 

It scares her senseless. She’s never seen an injury like this before— not on anyone living. And after all Aang had died— 

She makes a soft involuntary whine in the back of her throat as she forces herself to stop thinking about it. Thankfully the roaring wind easily hides her pain, and she sinks a little lower against Appa’s warm back, holding the boy against her side a little tighter. 

Where their bodies are pressed together she can feel a steady heat, and it reminds her that he’s alive. She’d saved him. She’d brought him back. And for the moment, that has to be enough. 

“There’s the base!” Sokka says over her shoulder, and she looks up quickly to the horizon. There in the distance she sees a gaggle of water tribe boats. 

She blinks. 

Her dad is there. 

She’d had an hour to realize this, but her brain had been so preoccupied with Aang that she’d forgotten where they were headed. 

She hasn’t seen her dad in two years. 

But, somehow, she knows the feeling in her stomach is not one of excitement, but dread. 

She blames it on the fact that she just had to bring her best friend back from the dead and not on any uneasiness she may feel towards her father. 

Appa lets out a long mournful roar— he had known immediately that something was wrong with Aang and had refused to acknowledge them in any way the whole trip other than to groan sorrowfully. 

By the time they’re close enough to make out details, a handful of tribesmen have gathered. One visit by the Avatar and already they’d learned to recognize his bison.

Her dad is there. 

She’s not ready. 

She can feel her throat tightening all over again, the panic from before coming back. It doesn’t matter the source— it feels the same. She busies herself with suddenly tending to Aang. She pulls him closer and hopes he can’t feel the cold. 

Appa lands in a clear space and before anyone can do anything, Sokka has already leap from the bison’s back. 

“Dad—“ He says, but his loyalties split in an instant. He makes only a seconds eye contact with his father before turning and running up to Appa’s head where he reaches up for her. “We need a healer’s tent— Aang’s hurt bad.” 

She realizes he’s reaching for Aang— that he wants her to hand him over. Her knee jerk reaction is to refuse, but then she carefully slips an arm under Aang’s knees and shoulders. This way would be best to keep from jarring Aang. She knows Sokka has already thought this through. 

Sure enough, the transfer from bison to ground is smooth with his help, and the sight of the charred avatar is enough to spur the tribesmen into movement— with Hakoda and Bato at the front. 

Hakoda only takes one step forward— his hand is outreached, like maybe he plans to carry his son’s burden for him. But he must see the way Sokka holds Aang even tighter against his chest, and then instead turns and ushers that they follow them. “Put him in my tent. We don’t have any healers traveling with us anymore. Bato—“ 

“I’ll gather some supplies.” He says quickly before veering off with the rest of the men as they gather bandages and water. 

Katara jumps off as Toph helps down the Earth King and Bosco. She runs ahead and catches up with her dad and Sokka. 

Hakoda leads them to a good sized tent that’s already furnished and well lit. He pulls aside the flap for them both. “There’s a bed roll— against the trunk.” 

Katara ducks in front of her brother and grabs it, quickly unrolling it on the furs and spreading it out. 

That done, Sokka goes to place down Aang, but Katara stops him half way. 

“Don’t lie him down all the way, sit there and hold him up so I can see his back.” She points to the ground and helps her brother arrange Aang so he’s sitting, head hanging limply forward as Sokka holds him up by his shoulders. 

she kneels down beside him, grimacing at the hole in her friends back. she hears her dad’s sharp intake of breath. 

“What happened?” He asks her, and Sokka looks up from where he was staring at the mess of Aang’s back. 

“Azula.” she says, teeth gritted. “She shot him with lightning.” Her eyes burn just thinking about it— about how Aang had convulsed— how he’d screamed— 

Her cheeks are wet again, but the fury in her chest keeps her from succumbing to the tears. 

Sokka and Hakoda share a look, but before they can say anything else Bato comes into the tent with two other tribesmen, carrying two pails full of water. He puts them within her reach and she doesn’t wait before bending two large orbs from the buckets to cover her hands. 

She gingerly presses the water against Aang’s wound, a soft bright glow filling the tent as her healing abilities came to the surface. She can feel the water’s energy flow through her, and with some effort, pushes for it to flow through Aang as well. 

She’s halted immediately by his tangled Chi— it refuses to let anything through, negative or positive. The fleshy mess throbs against her hands, and begins to bleed sluggishly. She reminds herself that a little blood is okay, so long as it doesn’t get out of hand. 

She doesn’t even know where to start— Aang’s body has been torn apart on the inside by the lightning, and everywhere her energy reaches she can only see more damage. She feels her stomach drop and heat build behind her eyes again. She’d brought him back to life, but for what? She’s not sure this kind of injury can be recovered from. 

Sokka must be able to read her face, because the arm he has tucked across Aang’s shoulders tightens. “Katara?” He says, and she recognizes his tone of voice. 

“It’s bad.” She whispers, getting to her knees and leaning forward. The blood is beginning to drip down Aang’s back and pool near his pants. Normally she’d attempt to save them— he only had this outfit and some extra robes from the air temples— but the lightening had shredded his clothes as well, leaving them burnt and hanging from his body. There would be no sewing them back together this time. 

Sokka’s also staring at the blood, but she doesn’t have the mind to ponder what he’s thinking. Instead she focuses all her energy on slowly healing Aang’s muscles. 

She doesn’t know how long they stay like that. At some point she hears their father called outside of the tent, and he leaves them with promises to return. 

She’s so focused in fact, that she doesn’t realize the sun is beginning to rise until Sokka finally loses his battle against his own nerves and begins to endlessly wiggle. 

“Sokka—“ She finally admonishes, frustrated. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and she sighs. She feels like a raw nerve, alight with agitation and too sensitive. 

She pulls the water from Aang’s back, taking as much of the negative energy with her as she does. Her water has long been tainted with blood, and she returns the maroon mess back to the buckets. Her hands drip with it, and she refuses to let herself squirm. “Put him on his stomach. You can go.” 

She sits back as she says so and watches as Sokka lies Aang down with more gentleness than she knew he possessed. He stands and reaches down to help her up. She almost doesn’t take his hand because she’s going to get blood on him, but he just shakes his head minutely, so she lets him help her up. 

Her knees and ankles crack, and she pops her back. When she finally straightens her neck crackles like rock candy. She grimaces, but doesn’t make to move from the tent. 

She doesn’t want to leave him. 

“Go get some fresh water. I’ll stay.” Sokka says, even though he’d been squirming like an eel. He doesn’t sit again, but steps away from Aang’s side to examine some maps their father has spread across a couple crates.

She hesitates— it’s instinct. Turning her back on Aang just to walk out of the tent makes it feel like there’s heavy stones in her stomach, but she does it anyway. 

She dumps the bloody water and refills it, washing her hands as she goes and getting a drink. Her hands shake when she looks at them, and she can’t make them stop. 

The sun is low on the horizon, beginning it’s daily crawl across the sky, and the dew saturating the grass soaks into the trim of her dress as she kneels. 

She feels broken, like she’s only a gust of wind away from cracking completely and shattering onto the ground. She has no desire to cry any longer, and yet her body feels like a spring ready to explode, like tears are lingering behind her eyes waiting for the opportunity to escape. She’d brought Aang back, but she still feels like she’s failed. 

“Katara?”

She startles badly, jumping in her skin and turning. Her dad is standing behind her. If she weren’t so utterly worn out she thinks she’d be shouting at him for scaring her. It must show on her face. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He apologizes. 

She’s suddenly overcome with the drive to complete her task and return to Aang. She turns away from him and dips each bucket into the water, refilling them. 

“We didn’t get to really say hello.” He says. She realizes what he’s after. He’d missed her, and he didn’t have any reunion. They haven’t seen each other in two years after all— 

“I need to get back to Aang.” She says instead of hugging him, grabbing her buckets and running off before he can reply. 

She dips into his tent, and realizes this might not be the best place to avoid him. 

He can come in his own tent. She’s not hiding anyway. She doesn’t care what he does. 

Sokka looks up when she does, a jaw cracking yawn splitting his face. 

“You should get some sleep.” She says without thinking. Aang hasn’t moved at all— she hadn’t expected him to, but it’s still disappointing somehow. 

“You should too.” he says, and she nods even though she has no intentions of doing so. He stands and watches as she takes her spot next to Aang once more. 

For someone who always has something to say, Sokka’s being awfully quiet. After a moment of staring he pats her shoulder and leaves. 

She’s alone. 

She looks down at Aang’s peaceful face, and bites the inside of her cheek. It’s not even been a full day, but she already misses him. If he were here... 

She wishes he would smile. Maybe it would make the ice lingering in her veins finally melt. 

—

She spends the day trying to heal the mess that is Aang’s back. It’s nearly fruitless— it barely improves, and she realizes that this isn’t the type of injury that will heal quickly. It doesn’t matter how much energy she pours into it, it just sucks it up and continues to emit pain. 

She’s glad Aang is asleep for this part at least— just hovering her hands over it she can feel how much negative energy it gives off— it would be agonizing if he were conscious. 

She takes a handful of breaks, but she doesn’t use them to mingle with the tribesmen and her father like Sokka and Toph have been. She has no desire to be around other people right now. 

By sundown, Sokka doesn’t give her the option. 

  
  


——

they see a two fire nation scout ships enter the bay. If they don’t want to be burned alive, they need to load up into the ships quick, and disappear into the bay’s vast waters. 

As soon as they get the information, they start packing. 

—

The first time Aang shows the first hint of consciousness is in the dead of night. She’s trying to sleep in the hide hammock, has been for hours. Aang’s finally healed enough to be able to rest on his back, and he’s asleep on a pile of hides built up against the haul and between the beds. They’d decided to leave him and not move him into the hammocks— the less they moved him the better. 

Her eyes are closed as she tries to sleep, but the second she hears the soft grunt from the corner her eyes snap open. She slips out of her hammock and pads over to his bed, her bare feet silent on the wood. 

“Was that Aang?” Toph asks, and Katara jumps at her voice. 

“Yeah, I think so.” She says after she recovers. She kneels next to Aang and places her hand on his chest lightly. It’s too dark below deck to see much of anything, but she can feel how his breaths come faster, how his heart works harder beneath her hand. 

She feels hope bloom in her chest for the first time since she watched him be struck down. 

He was finally waking up. 

“Aang?” She says. She tries not to be too loud— she doesn’t want to wake Sokka if she doesn’t have to, but it’s only the three of them in this cluster, and if waking Sokka meant Aang would finally rejoin them in the land of the living, then she is willing to sacrifice his sleep. 

She hears Toph shift, and sees her sit up and throw her legs over the side of her hammock so her feet can touch the wood. Fuzzy as she claims the wood makes her vision, she still gets around impressively well. 

“Aang?” She says again, louder this time. He’s started to sweat, and when she places her hand against his forehead she discovers his skin is feverish. 

She bends water out of the barrel nearby and applies it directly to his forehead. Not to most effective method to treat a fever, but it might bring him some comfort. 

“Aang?” She tries for the last time. He’s not made any sound since. 

She tries not to feel crushed. This is a good sign— a sign that he is in fact improving. 

But he’s not awake. 

Not yet. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please review!


End file.
